


Clashing Metal

by fallingfeathers



Category: RWBY
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingfeathers/pseuds/fallingfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Ironwood often feels more robot than human, and he's not sure all of his parts are working. Qrow Branwen prides himself in pissing people off, but sometimes he finds himself poking deeper than he should. </p><p>Clashing metal can sure make some beautiful sparks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                The worst of it is that he’s not even surprised. _The tail on that Grimm is about ten feet long, and he marks out the sphere around its back as dangerous territory._ James Ironwood has a long history of failure. A soul not strong enough to protect its own body. _The Grimm has risen onto its hind legs, and is towering above him, three times his height._ A military school endowed with the same weaknesses as its headmaster, the same brittle nature that lends itself to fragility. _The proximity makes it easy to land a shot on the hind leg, and the Grimm falls forward with a roar. In preparation, he jumps back a distance four times his height even as he shoots._

                He doesn’t like the Vytal Festival, but his students do. When they come to Vale, they seem to grow more alive than they ever are at Atlas. They shrug off gray uniforms and let the blood rush to their heads as they throw themselves into the fray. _The hide is thick. No telling how deeply his bullet bit. A hit to the head would be best._ They’re proud of themselves, when they step into the arena, and even the losing teams have a sense of pride when they stumble out. There’s something in having fought a worthy opponent. _The claws rake towards his chest, and he leaps up, the claws and the head raising up to follow him._

                James has never been able to feel that way. Even now, facing monsters and an army turned against him, he can’t help but feel cold. _He shoots directly forward, and a black mist like blood rises behind the masked skull. He falls heavily to the ground, one knee bruising against the concrete. He hears metal clanking, and a ring of his own soldiers steps up._

                They are annoying. No threat to him; he built these robots himself, knows all their weak spots. One bullet wedges into the control plate of the one on his right, while a bullet to metal knee causes the soldier on his left to stumble then trip, dragging down the soldier besides him. He flings out his arms, shooting in both directions, and two metal heads roll onto the ground. He tastes guilt, and he’s not entirely sure of the origin—shame that these metal creations give way so easily? Physically, or mentally to some virus designed by the enemy? He rises now, brushing off his knees.

                Somewhere ahead in the dust, he hears an unusual clank, like mace hitting bone. There’s a human there, someone with more soul than robots and Grimm. He races forward, making out blurry figures in the distance. The robots are easy to identify, with their robotic movements and unsubtle clanking. He fires as he runs, removing half the assailants before the Vale student has time to raise his mace. He hears pounding feet, and Glynda and Qrow come into view, perhaps also sensing danger to the young boy.

                “This area is secure,” James tells them, waving his pistol. “We need to—”

                Qrow’s eyes glint, and with an ugly grinding the sword in his hands curves into a scythe. For a moment, the mechanic in James longs to tinker with those gears, smoothing their lurching motion into a more graceful lengthening of the weapon’s spindly handle.

                Then he looks back at fierce eyes and narrowed eyebrows. The intensity catches his breath, and he takes a step back. His first stumble. “Qrow! This isn’t my doing…”

                He trails off as the caped figure ignores him, starting a forward dash and scraping blade against ground for purchase. Those eyes are no longer focused on him, and James isn’t surprised by that, either. His subordinates rarely look him in the eyes. Even Schnee, despite her clear gaze, seems to see more of his uniform and his rank than the man beneath them. His uniform… As Qrow leaps above him, scythe held high, James is suddenly aware of the ragged state of his own dress, the unnatural merging of flesh and metal, the skin exposed. He can imagine all too well what Qrow thinks of him know.

                And then Qrow is soaring _over_ him, the scythe cutting silently through shadow rather than flesh, and he realizes that Qrow has not been thinking of him at all. The black griffin of a Grimm falls in two heaving thuds behind him, cloven in two by Qrow’s blade.

                “You idiot,” Qrow says, scowling. “I know you didn’t do this.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plan is for the POV to alternate between Qrow and Ironwood, but some auxiliary characters might get thrown in now and then :D

                The first thing Qrow notices is how General Ironwood’s upper torso is almost entirely exposed. Which is ridiculous. They’ve all been fighting Grimm left and right, and you don’t see anyone else losing their clothing. He would suspect James of being an exhibitionist if it didn’t seem so utterly contradictory to the man’s stuffy nature.

                 The second thing he notices is the massive Grimm gliding down with its claws outstretched and maw gaping open. He should probably take care of that before James gives the poor beast indigestion. And if he’s a little too dramatic in the gradual lengthening of his sword, and in the twirl he gives the scythe before letting it hang at just the right angle to gouge out a fine spray of rock in the road behind him, he’ll surely be forgiven (especially since Glynda is right behind him to fix any messes he creates). When you’re trying to be subtle in enemy territory, you don’t have much occasion to fight with flair. He’s missed doing this, and though he can feel Glynda rolling her eyes behind him, James is being a surprising cooperative audience. He’s taken a step back already, and there’s actual shock on his face. Unfortunately, he ruins it all by opening his mouth.

                “Qrow! This isn’t my doing…”

                Qrow doesn’t bother letting the words impede his path, although he can’t help a mental pang of annoyance. Trust the man to think it’s more believable that he turned to the dark side than that he made a mistake with his army. And what’s the point of an audience that doesn’t even know your objective? It’d be like having a crowd that cheered even as you punted the ball into your own goal.

                At least his scythe slices through shadowy flesh with a satisfying heft, and the two pared halves of the griffon sink to the ground. Qrow lands neatly besides them, then turns around to give his remaining scowl to James.

                “You idiot,” he says. “I know you didn’t do this.”

                The general looks worn. Qrow thinks he would have more sympathy if he hadn’t just spent the last several hours grinding the general’s annoying well-made metal robots into the ground. And besides, he looks better already with Glynda at his side offering her support. Qrow waits an impatient half-second for them to get their burgeoning emotions under control, then helpfully brings their attention back to the utter mess at hand.

                “So what now, general?”

                James straightens and steps away from Glynda, his back becoming military straight.

                “Someone’s done the impossible and gained control of my machines. And that enormous Grimm seems to be fixated on the school.”

                The man’s hands are behind is back, and he looks far too unfazed. Qrow feels the annoyance stirring up inside him again.

                “Glynda, inform all the local huntsmen and establish a safe zone here in Vale. We need to evacuate Beacon. Qrow, I’m leaving that to you and my men.”

                Glynda gives a quick nod of acknowledgment, likely already planning out logistics in her mind. Qrow is preoccupied with forming a snappy comeback, but the general barrels on before he can do so.

                “I still need to get to my ship.”

                His face takes on a determined cast as he says this. But even while he’s straightening his chin, a high-pitched whistle sounds above head, and the three of them look up just in time to see the military control ship sail over, engulfed in flames. In front of their eyes, it shudders lower and comes to an ungainly crash that topples several nearby buildings.

                “Well, it won’t be much of a walk,” Qrow says.


	3. Chapter 3

                James isn’t sure what he feels as he watches the ship he built—the technology he’s dedicated his life to perfecting, ignoring his school and students and heart to build up what was supposed to be the ultimate defense.

                Everything is crashing and burning in front of him, and he thinks about how being cold and unfeeling apparently didn’t lead him to be reasonable, because he put all of his eggs into the same basket and didn’t even realize it.

                He looks to Qrow and Glynda, watching their reaction, but they don’t seem surprised. They lost faith in his technology, and by extension in him, the moment the security system first broke down. In their eyes, he’s a string of failures, and he thinks of Glynda’s hand on his shoulder and feels the pity in the gesture. He thinks of Qrow’s swaggering accusations of James’ ignorance and arrogance, and winces to think that he was right all along. He sags internally, then straightens.

                If this mess is his responsibility, it’s even more so his responsibility to clean it up. Guilt can be dealt with later. He gives a quick nod to Glynda and Qrow, training his eyes in the distance so that he doesn’t have to see their eyes, and marches away.

                As Qrow said, he doesn’t have far to go. The smoke rising from the ruins form a constant beacon, and before long he is on his knees next to the wreckage, pushing his way through metal shards to the control deck. But he’s not surprised to find that there’s nothing to see. Whoever was here did a thorough job, ensuring that the control board is completely fried. He sees only a black, smoldering mess of wires, with no hint of how the virus had taken over. He grits his teeth and begins prying apart the hot wires anyways, trying to find any critical places where the circuits might have shorted. He takes more care with his metal hand than his real one—burns will heal by themselves, but he doesn’t fancy having to re-hammer the joints on his metal hand.

                As far as he can tell, the hardware is intact aside from the explosion; the hacking must have been a software issue, some virus planted by the enemy. He leaves the control panel and sifts through the wreckage until finally he spots thin shards of broken glass. He leans in, and sees the broken screen of a tablet, cracked with a spider web pattern across the top. The issue is different from the standard scrolls that citizens bear, and he knows immediately that this is the culprit. He slips it into his pocket and stands, brushing his pants off. Detailed examination of this scroll can be done later. Now that the robot army is disabled and the sensitive information collected, he must help with the evacuation.

                He is glad to see that Oobleck and Port have already begun loading students into evacuation ships. However, he hears raised voices as he nears.

                “But Jaune and Pyrrha are still missing!”

                He looks around with a critical eye and sees that indeed, the assemblage of students is sparse. The audience had scattered after the initial attack, and the wreckage is so great that some students must be stuck in the mess. He strides up to Oobleck and Port.

                “Good job here,” he says briskly. “It looks like you have the evacuation under control, so I will go retrieve stragglers.”

                Oobleck looks relieved. “We'd certainly appreciate that. We can't leave these students alone, nor do we want to alarm them further, but it’s obvious that quite a few are absent.”

                Ironwood nods and turns away. He doesn’t have to go far. He hears groans from the crushed remains of two buildings, and hurries over to find a girl beneath an overhang, clutching her left leg in pain. From her gray uniform, he identifies her as one of his students.

                “Are you alright?” he asks, lifting her carefully into his arms. “I’ll take you back to the evacuation zone. You’ll receive medical treatment quickly.”

                Her eyes are clouded and delirious, and she doesn’t seem to hear a word that he says.

                “The robot,” she says in a surprised tone. “I went to it for help, but it … it shot me.”

                He bows his head. “I’m sorry.”

                Her head lolls against his shoulder, and she whimpers softly. “My leg … it shot me…”

                He purses his lips together and says nothing more, instead focusing his attention on weaving as quickly as he can through the ruins. When he reaches the launching pads, he hands off the girl to one of the older, responsible-looking Atlas students, then turns on his heel to resume his search.

                He is cold. Not only has he left his students wounded, he created the weapons that created the wound. As he retrieves student after student, he can’t help but add the weight of their injuries to the growing shame on his shoulders.


	4. Chapter 4

                Qrow watches Glynda and Ironwood leave before turning to perform his own duty. He sheathes his scythe and takes a nimble leap into the air, transforming into a crow. The added momentum of reduced weight propels him forwards and up, and before long he is circling above the destroyed grounds of Beacon. Glynda has a long job ahead of her, putting all this back together. Good thing she’s used to cleaning up after the messes more immature individuals create, because the entire enemy is basically just a group of idiots throwing a tantrum against the world. As blind as the child who destroys his favorite toy in a fit of rage.

                He looks again at the wreckage, and groans. The enemy is a group of really powerful idiots. At least the robots lie motionless on the ground, immobilized along with the General’s ship. Qrow scans the ground, committing to mind each flash of color, each group of students that he sees from above. He spots Oobleck and Port, and glides silently down to transform right behind him.

                Both men startle at the thump, and Qrow grins.

                “The control ship has gone down, so the skies should be in our control again. Glynda is already establishing a safe zone in Vale, we need to begin evacuating the students.”

                “Understood,” Port says. “Barty and I will head to the launching pads.”

                “I’ll work with Ironwood’s men to direct the students to you.”

                Oobleck raises an eyebrow. “Willingly working with the military?”

                Qrow’s smile is razor sharp. “Well, Jimmy has them so well-trained. It’s like having a pack of hounds at your disposal.”

                He takes off running without waiting for a response, and transforms mid-stride once a building obscures him from view. As he gains altitude, he thinks with pleasure of Winter’s enraged face, and how she would surely be trying to gut him if she had heard what he just said. Or maybe her face would be twisted in an internal struggle between the desire to knock him down a peg and the desire to maintain decorum in front of James, who would stand there stiff and disapproving. He likes Winter best when James is around, he decides. She growls so prettily when on a leash.

                The delightful image is still in his mind as he transforms back and strides up to several soldiers in Atlas uniform.

                “The evacuation is beginning. The Grimm have cornered a group of students two blocks behind you. Please lend them your assistance and then escort them to the evacuation zone.”

                The man salutes. “Yes, sir!”

                Qrow manages to turn purposefully before rolling his eyes. Well-trained dogs. They hadn’t even bothered to verify his authority before following the orders he gave. No wonder the enemy had taken control so easily. He shook his head, and told himself that at least it was coming in handy now. He continued his rounds, directing soldiers and students towards each other and away from the evacuation zone, occasionally sharpening his blade on packs of Grimm.

                Taking flight again, he satisfied himself that there was little movement in the rubble, aside from prowling Grimm. Trusting the soldiers to round up the rest of the children, he circled back to Oobleck and Port to offer any necessary assistance.

                But before he can reach them, he’s startled by a splash of yellow on the ground. He can only think of one person who so aggressively mirrors the sun, but there’s been enough of a fight that Yang’s semblance should be all charged up, if anything. There’s no reason for her to be lying on the ground. He hits the ground hard as a human, and breaks into a run.

                And then he’s standing over her and he sees the same thing that he saw as a crow but refused to believe. There’s a stump instead of flexing muscle and armored fist, and Yang’s eyes are a blank violet, not even an ember of their customary fire remaining, and he stands there and he stares and he sees.

                He sees the curve of Raven’s back as she walks away, so similar in shape to the figure lying before him, and he hears Taiyang’s soft sobs even as his daughter wails in Qrow’s arms. He sees the jut of Yang’s chin when they stand in front of Summer’s gravestone, telling him that she’ll be the mother Ruby needs. He sees the way Yang’s shoulders collapse after the Mercury incident, after her victory is cut short by accusation and treachery. He sees the way Ironwood’s face hardens upon viewing the footage, although the deceit is a failure in security, not in the blameless girl. He sees with perfect clarity all the ways in which they have failed Yang, and he drops to his knees besides her and grasps his shoulder, trying to push his aura into her as if that was something that were possible, as if the danger and damage were not already done.

                And there is a small cough, and the dark-haired girl, who he notices for the first time, whispers, “Ruby … and Weiss …”

                He is instantly alert.

                “What about Ruby?”

                She struggles to speak, clutching her side. All of these kids are torn up so badly. Children shouldn’t have to fight this way, shouldn’t fight in wars before their time, and Qrow struggles to turn his savage anger on himself, reminding himself of how much time he’s spent training children to do just that.

                The boy in green pushes himself up. “They’re searching for Jaune and Pyrrha.”

                Qrow lets his hands rest on Yang’s shoulder for one instant longer, memorizing the feel of her warmth beneath his fingers, then he is on his feet.

                “I’ll bring them back,” he declares, and vanishes into the rubble.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update. This quarter's finals are approaching, so posts will be erratic until that's all over.

                After a full circuit of the grounds where he encountered only Grimm, James readies himself to head back to the evacuation area. He realizes absently that he doesn’t much want to. The rubble has provided a refuge for him, and he enjoys being faced with the Grimm. There’s never any need for thinking then, just the weight of a gun in his hand and his body performing the weaponized maneuvers that have been drilled into him. On the battlefield, he can play the robot as much as he wants.

                As if mocking his thoughts, he hears an explosion from above. For a wild moment, his thoughts turn to his ships—another gone rogue?—and he flips the pistol in his hand. But as he spins around, he sees pieces of Ozpin’s office crumble down the side of the tower, and the massive Grimm open its maws in a thunderous caw as it settles against the tower.

                He runs towards the distant tower, dodging the lumbering Grimm instead of slashing them down. But he has only gotten two blocks closer when he hears a moan from a nearby alleyway. Following the sound, he sees a blonde boy in chestplate and jeans. He is on all fours, and swaying uncontrollably, as if the very ground is unstable underneath him. James recognizes him from the Vytal Festival as one of Ozpin’s students, and he kneels next to him to support him.

                “Are you all right?”

                The boy’s head shoots up, and he stares at James with wild eyes. “General Ironwood! Ozpin said to send for you but  now he’s gone and now Pyrrha has gone up and she’ll be crushed by that woman and she wouldn’t let me stop her and someone has to save Pyrrha please save her please—”

                It’s a babble of words, but James thinks he can parse it. Pyrrha is the girl Ozpin had chosen to become the Fall Maiden, and he remembers now that this young man was a member of her team. If Ozpin is involved, then Pyrrha must have made the choice, and the transfer of powers is complete. He’s not sure why Ozpin wanted him there—maybe as standby to ensure that the great machine he had helped built operated as intended—but it seems they proceeded without him. The process must have been, unfortunately, an uncomfortable one for Pyrrha. It is no surprise that this young man is so distressed, having to witness his teammate in pain without having the proper context for the importance of her actions. He puts out a soothing hand.

                “Don’t worry, your teammate will be fine. She’s stronger than you know.”

                “You don’t understand! There’s no way she can win against that woman.”

                “Pyrrha has powers that you don’t know of,” James tries to explain. He’s feeling increasingly concerned for the boy in front of him. While his aura looks healthy, he’s clearly in no mental state to be left by himself. There are too many Grimm still wandering about. Gently, he takes the boy by the elbow and helps lift them both to their feet.

                “Come, we should go to the evacuation port. They’re gathering all the students there.”

                “No!” he shouts, pushing away from James and gesticulating wildly towards the tower. “We have to go save Pyrrha!”

                His voice breaks a little, and he looks downward. “I mean, you have to save Pyrrha. You’re powerful enough. Please!”

                James frowns. The more the boy talks, the more James feels he can’t be left alone.

                “Let me accompany you to the evacuation area,” he says. “I’ll check on the tower immediately afterwards.”

                “Don’t worry about me!” he snarls, backing away further. “Just go after Pyrrha.”

                “I can’t leave a student out here alone,” James responds, his voice firm. “The quicker we make it to the evacuation point, the quicker I can check on your friend.”

                The boy glances at James’ face and sees the resolve there. With a pained shout he pulls his blade out of its scabbard and slams it into the ground, breaking the rock and creating a cloud of dust. He breathes in, out, and seems to stabilize himself, drawing himself up and sheathing his sword.

                “Fine,” he says. “Let’s go.”

                The two break into a sprint, James leading the way and taking occasional glances behind. The boy’s face has tightened, and although he had seemed winded when James found him, he now seems intent on reaching their destination and dispatching James to Pyrrha as quickly as possible. James can’t help but be impressed by his determination to aid his friend, no matter how misguided the impulse is. When the crowd of students comes into view, he is relieved on the blonde’s behalf, and indeed, the boy drops to his knees and gasps for air on the concrete. Doubled over on the ground nearby, a boy dressed in green weakly waves a hand in greeting, and a girl in pink squeals, “Jaune!”

Reassured that the boy—Jaune, apparently—will be taken care of, James turns to go, but is stopped by a call from Port.

                “General!”

                “I found this student out in the ruins, and now I must go help his friend,” James explains.

                Port looks uncomfortable. “The first ship is about to set off, and I think it would be best if you boarded it, General.”

                James frowns. “Surely my skills are still needed here. I can take the last ship out.”

                “With all due respect, General, the outside world has seen Atlas soldiers attacking bystanders on camera. You will be needed to answer questions.”

                James staggers. He can’t help himself, it feels like a weight has crushed his shoulders, but he reminds himself strictly that this is reality, and this is a hole he has dug for himself. He straightens, looks Port in the face.

                “You raise a good point. Very well.”

                “No!” exclaims a hoarse voice. James looks down and sees Jaune leaning towards him, one hand reaching out to him in supplication, the other pushing against the ground in a vain attempt to keep himself upright. “You promised. You promised to help Pyrrha.”

                “I’m sorry, Jaune,” James says softly. “But I have to do my duty.”

                He squares his shoulders and steps off towards the ship, trying to ignore the betrayal and desperation in Jaune’s eyes.


End file.
